Frigid World
by Invader Phoenix
Summary: He walks slowly through the icy world of his own creation, trying to find a place that would protect him. At last, he finds the perfect palace...a palace for a king. Farmworld, somewhat AU.


His steps left clear imprints in the snow, ice crunching as he walks. The buildup was deep. How far below the ground was buried he did not know, nor did he care. Snow continued to fall, as it had for days on end, still with no indication of ceasing. He could stop it, perhaps, but he had no inclination to try. The ice was his comfort, his home, his protection. He didn't mind the cold.

Smiling slightly, he stretched out his left arm, catching a small white snowflake in his cupped hand. It did not melt on his palm. His body was of the same temperature as the frozen drop of water. He was one with the snow.

Gently blowing the snowflake off his hand, he continued his leisurely walk. What else was there to do but walk? The land around him was frozen and covered with ice, growing ever colder by the storm of his own creation. It was much quieter, too, than he remembered. He saw precious few souls in his wanderings, but when he did, they would quickly run away. A wise decision. Some of the creatures he saw were not anything that he would have recognized. There were things that looked somewhat like him, but could not be mistaken for the same species. Others were completely alien in appearance, unlike anything in his hazy memory could identify.

He did not even remember what his own kind was called. Hu... Hu... That was all he could recollect. It was a small matter, though, what he had once been. Every day he became more like the snow. His "hu"-ness faded away, and with it, his memories. The life he had once led was nothing but a blur, of which he could recall only small, unclear fragments. But it did not matter.

Something made a sound behind him. He whirled around, eyes wide, muscles tensed. Nothing was there. Yet he did not move. Paranoia showing in his eyes, he clenched his teeth together, alert and prepared to do whatever he had to do...

Still nothing.

"_Where are you...?"_ he whispered.

There was no reply. Still as a statue, he waited for any sign of life around him. At last, a small white creature ran across the snow. It was similar to something he remembered... r...rab...bit?

The animal was no threat. Realizing this, he began to laugh. Slowly, reservedly at first, escalating into a mad cackle. He laughed for far longer than necessary, the cause of it not joy or humor, but relief. He had been on edge ever since the whole thing had started.

With a sigh, he continued on his travels, now heading up a slight incline. Ice-capped mountains rose into the sky in the distance. He could fly there, but he wished to walk. It was better for his concentration. Occupied him more. And besides, it gave him more time to examine the areas he passed. He needed to find a place that would protect him.

Subconsciously, his hand moved toward his head, feeling the biting cold metal of the crown. He knew he had it, yet there was a constant impulse to be certain that it was there. If he lost it, he would be helpless. The crown was his prize. His defense. His life. After all, hat would he do without it?

He stopped in his tracks as the snowflakes around him began to whisper. They told him a story, a story that only he would have understood. The snow spoke a language that he knew quite well, having learned it from the crown. It was quite a tale, and he enjoyed hearing it. It always brought him pleasure when the ice spoke to him, even if the tale was somber. He had a faint memory of having once been disturbed and frightened by the icy words, but he now found that reaction silly. After all, the ice was his friend. His only friend, other than the crown.

Bartram had ran away; he had no idea idea as to where. Nor did the donkey even cross his mind anymore. On the rare occasion that he saw another living creature, no words were exchanged between them. In fact, the encounters hardly ever consisted of more than a single glance. Another faint idea he had was of a woman, a man, and a small child. He did not know of their whereabouts. He did not even remember their names, much less the fact that he had sent them away. Very soon, though, his last memory of them would fade.

There was one whom he knew was out there. Where, he was not sure, but that individual was the reason he was constantly on guard. The reason that he needed to find protection. The reason why any sound other than his own footsteps frightened him.

Hours passed. The world around him was silent, safe for the muffled crackle of snow under his feet. He brushed the stuff off of the mechanical device that stood in place of his right arm. It would be quite a pain if it rusted, but he supposed he could make a replacement out of ice. In fact, he was certain that he could. Perhaps he would. But not now. Now he had priorities. Hopefully the mission would be over soon.

He peered up curiously at the mountains. They were quite tall, the largest he'd ever seen. None more than the one that stood in the center, towering high above the others. Perhaps...

He began to fly. Hair flapping against the icy wind, propelling him upward, he made his way through the dull blue skies. Snow fell around him, landing on the white hat that covered his head, damp after the long weeks of constant precipitation. His clothes were all wet. He would have to find new ones. Oh, well. He would get to it in time.

Stopping close to the mountains, slightly above the of the tallest of the peaks, he rubbed his chin with his hand. Grey stone showed underneath the snow farther down. Narrowing his eyes, he stretched his arms outward, toward the massifs. A pale blue glow shone around his hands, both the real and artificial one, as ice began to coat the mountains. It spread over each of them, immersing them completely, leaving them with a bluish hue. When the job was done, he lowered his arms and surveyed the range.

_Beautiful._

They were high up and easy to protect, what with the uphill advantage. He could hollow out the insides, create himself a home. It would be so easy to conceal himself within the depths. He would be safe. But better yet, the altitude gave him a sense of pride. The height showed his dominance, his stature, his power. Power. Power. He had power. The crown had given it to him.

Power. A crown. Kings wore crowns. Kings had power. Yes, yes, that was it! He was a king! No one dared to challenge a king. He was one rightfully, after all. He wore the crown. Ah, yes, a king. And this would be his castle! He grinned. A king. The ruler of... of what? A king had to have subjects. But who would be his?

A faint noise below grabbed his attention. He could not see the source. A familiar sense of panic setting in, he began to fly down, slowly and cautiously. As he grew closer to the ground, the noises grew clearer and greater in number. Eventually, he saw them. Small, black-and-white birds, waddling around the ice. They did not seem to be bothered by the cold. He stopped, floating high above the strange creatures. Perhaps _they_ could be his subjects. As the thought occurred to him, a bit of snow fell from on top of his head and into his face. He brushed the ice off of him.

_Ice._

He had power over ice.

Laughing in triumph, he flew down, closer to the birds. They looked up, surprised by the sound of his maniacal cackle. He took in their glances with pride and cleared his throat.

"Behold, snow-birds, your new ruler: _ The Ice King!"_


End file.
